


A Dangerous Game

by Geige_21



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M, I have done nothing but teleport bread for three days, I'll update additional tags as I go, I'm Sorry, Why am I still up it's 4am, omg so many tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-09-25 18:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9838109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geige_21/pseuds/Geige_21
Summary: The tf2 mercenaries have to get used to a new face around. Thankfully, she's just as mad as they are.





	1. Toy Weapons

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely love TF2. I've been wanting to write a story for so long, but only now have I had the motivation and help to do it. I wanted to say the biggest thank you ever to Skyward_Legion, as they have provided so much help and motivation in order for me to get my ideas organised and my story written!
> 
> Also a huge thank you to ArtlessMaroon for your help and inspiration! I highly recommend anyone to go and read ArtlessMaroon's story, 'In your Head and Your Heart,' since it's absolutely fantastic, and it inspired me to get started!
> 
> (I've also kept my character fairly ambiguous, so that the readers can put themselves in her shoes!)
> 
> I just wanted to say I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it, and I warmly welcome any constructive criticism and corrections! This is literally the first story I have written since High school, so bear with me, I know I will improve.  
> Enjoy!

‘It is highly likely you will die on your first mission, you understand? But do not worry, we will try not to hold that against you, Rigger.’

She sat in a small chair, in a large room. It was barren and unoccupied with the exception of dirt and dust on the metal floor, a large whiteboard, and the masked Spy pacing in front of her. On the whiteboard was a crude but effective map of her target, and on it was a large X that read ‘mainframe.’

The whirlwind of her thoughts, feelings and worries cascaded through her mind and she shifted uncomfortably. Her mind dared to question whether she was ready for this. Regardless, it was too late to worry about that now.

‘I understand.’ She nodded, adjusting the position of the watch on her wrist, without taking her eyes off Spy.

Although she felt like she had been thrown into the deep end of a pool, from what little she had been told, she understood her first mission was of the utmost importance; this was a golden opportunity to attack the enemy whilst they were unprepared, as they were also dealing with changes being made to their team. Plus, this was a chance to show her team what she was capable of.

She also understood that she was supposed to be a valuable new addition to the team of mercenaries - one of the more technical classes, her specialisation was computer programming and hacking, along with the use of drones in combat. The Spy had taken a particular interest in her, since he realised the potential of her skillset in espionage.

The Spy stared at her, as though he was evaluating her thoughts. ‘You will be accompanying me, and you are expected to act with agency and competence; it is not just your life on the line.’ The spy stopped pacing and indicated the large X on the whiteboard. ‘You will locate the enemy intelligence by hacking into the BLU’s mainframe here, and plant one of your surveillance drones in the base. We then extract the intelligence.’ He leant forward slightly, ‘Is this clear?’

The Rigger nodded, shifting in her chair and hoping the unease she felt went unnoticed by Spy.

The Spy straightened again. ‘Make preparations, we will be leaving shortly,’ he instructed. With that, he lit a cigarette, turned on his heel and briskly walked out, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

The sky was painted in soft shades of pink and orange as the sun was setting over the horizon, the warm air gently breezing across her face. Few words were exchanged on their journey to the enemy base, much to the convenience of the Rigger as she tried to reflect on her chaotic thoughts.

_I’ve barely been here two hours, and I’m already going on a mission. I hardly even know the mercenaries…_

The Spy put out his arm to stop her, as they got closer to the base. ‘A word of caution, Rigger. You may notice some strange things about our opponents in this battle. My advice? Aim for the head and try not to think about it. They say you are your own worst enemy. Over time this becomes, unfortunately, quite true. In any case, good luck.’

The Rigger didn’t pretend to know exactly what that meant, but she looked right back at Spy with a fierce determination that he could only admire. ‘Thanks for the heads up. I’m ready when you are.’

As planned, the Spy and Rigger advanced towards their respective entry points at the enemy base.

\----------------

With her SMG drawn and levelled at her shoulder, she quietly paced along a corridor. Although her demeanour was calm and collected, her thoughts were racing – she never had a job like this before and she sure as hell didn’t want to ruin it all on her first mission. And even though Medic had reassured her she would respawn, she was still terrified at the prospect of dying.

_I desperately need to make a good impression. I don’t want things to go back to the way they were before._

There was a sudden flash of movement at the end of the corridor, quickly followed by a sharp sound. She could see a broad axe head now embedded in the wall, the light catching the sleek chrome finish of the bevel. She stopped dead in her tracks, her skin froze and the hairs of her nape stood on end.

 A gloved hand grasped the bottom of the haft as a BLU figure with a gas mask stepped into full view, their muffled laugh echoing throughout the corridor. The Rigger caught her breath, instinct already taking over. She kept her gaze locked onto the BLU’s form, silently backing herself into the narrow alcove behind her. It must have been used to allow carts to pass each other, but it would have to do as a hiding spot for now. The laughing abruptly ceased, and her eyes widened in fear.

Frantically logging into her console, she promptly hacked into the BLU’s security system and brought up the CCTV feed on her screen. Her heart was pounding, the adrenaline surging, as she watched the figure through the camera reach for something, without taking his sight off the corridor. He slowly began to advance on her hiding spot, his gaze fixed. _This must be the Pyro,_ she thought, with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn’t know much about the mercenaries yet, but she did know Pyro was of a certain madness that very few could rival.

Mentally scolding herself, she finally pulled her eyes away from the flamethrower Pyro was now carrying. She really _was_ screwed, what was she going to do? Not enough time to rig up a drone, and grenades wouldn’t help in this environment…Pyro was getting close now. She quickly put her console away and clutched the SMG tightly against her chest. Counting. Readying to attack.

Her breathing felt too loud to her ears, even as she desperately tried to stifle it. She could barely hear the approaching footsteps, any moment now she would be found. The footsteps stopped and her breathing almost went with them. Her thoughts were banished by the sudden muffled howl of pain, followed by a heavy, metallic clattering. The shock jolted her entire body and without thinking, she had already lunged out from behind the alcove spraying the SMG wildly at the Pyro’s torso. As the body dropped to the ground with a dull thud, she exhaled heavily with relief, arms shaking.

Her eyes flicked to the body, catching a shimmer of light behind it, although she quickly dismissed this in her frantic state _. It was probably just her eyes readjusting_ , she hoped. In an attempt to ease her nerves, she scanned the corridor for signs of other threats.

Nothing. No one. Regardless, she would need to move fast. Surely the enemies would have been alerted from the piercing shots that tore through the base. Hurrying as quietly as she possibly could, she searched for a place to hide, her stun baton drawn just in case. 

Feeling a firm tug on her left arm, she yelped in fear, instinctively pulling her arm back and following up with the baton in the other. She swung fast, although in this split-second the Spy had already uncloaked himself and deftly evaded her attack.  
  
‘It’s me,’ the Spy said, taking a drag from his cigarette, and before he could get another word out, the Rigger interrupted,

‘What the FUCK, Spy? I could have killed you! Why didn’t you tell me?!’ she seethed, her fist clenched tightly around her baton, and her eyes wild with frustration. Spy’s eyes darted away from hers, towards the corridor, and hushed her.

He took her hand, ‘Not now. We need to move, follow me.’

She put up little resistance, and the bitter expression on her face soon relaxed once she realised she was grateful for the guidance. This was her first mission, after all.

‘Well, I’m definitely making this team some damn comm devices…’ she grumbled under her breath, in a feeble attempt at making a retort.

The Spy quickly led her to a small maintenance room, ‘It seems clear here, you should get set up while I take care of the others.’

‘Spy?’ the Rigger whispered.

‘Oui, Madmoiselle?’

‘Thanks for helping me earlier,’ she replied sheepishly.

The Spy cracked a slight smile in her direction and nodded before leaving. ‘Stay safe, Rigger.’

She returned the gesture, that which soon grew into a wicked grin once the door had closed and Spy had left. Oh how she could envision the havoc she was about to cause, pulling out her console, a small drone and some pocket tools.

\-------------

The bright fluorescent light strained the Rigger’s eyes as she sat tinkering away at her surveillance drone, at a small steel table. The shelves were filled with odds and ends, from cleaning equipment to spare lightbulbs, and thick dust had settled with abandon as though the room hadn’t been used in years.  
  
After spending some time on her console, she had a significantly better grasp of the BLU’s system; she was modifying her drone so that it could wirelessly interface with the BLU’s computer mainframe. Or hacking, as her colleagues like to call it. This drone was miniscule and silver, no bigger than a golf ball, and she had developed a method of cloaking it. It lay in well-organised pieces on the table before her.

The door flung open, crashing into one of the shelves, as a young man wearing a baseball cap sauntered in. The Rigger bolted to her feet and glanced at him, almost knocking the chair over, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He jumped in response from her sudden reaction and cocked an eyebrow.

It was barely a moment before a boastful grin spread across his face, ‘Whoa there, didn’t mean to surprise ya…Sorry…Just lookin’ for something.’ He stood up straight, puffing his chest out and leaning his arm above his head on the door frame, ‘I didn’t know they hired such hot janitors heh… So what’s ya name sweet stuff? I ain’t seen you round here before.’

Her first thought flashed to her gun and how well it she had concealed it. She gravely hoped it was hidden sufficiently enough so that Scout was unlikely to spot it, however this would also mean that it would be difficult to grab if she needed it. 

_Don’t look at the gun, don’t look._

Despite the tenacious will she possessed, she could not help herself as her eyes darted towards the shelves on her right, where her gun was nestled between some propane canisters.

That was a mistake.

Scout immediately noticed this, and casually leaned in, peering over in the direction of the shelves.

 _Shit._ Her mind scrambled for an answer. ‘Oh, I’m here running some security checks for Mannco, on behalf of Miss Pauling. Speaking of which, could you give me a hand?’ she asked, desperately trying to divert his attention, whilst at the same time hoping the forced confidence had not compromised her façade.

Scout scoffed. ‘Pfft, no offence lady, but you don’t look like the ‘security’ type.’ He walked up to the Rigger and casually slung his arm around her shoulders. Her back stiffened. She gripped the screwdriver in her hand so hard that her knuckles had turned white. ‘So, what can the Scout… That’s me, help ya with, lady?’  

_I could kill him. I could kill him with the screwdriver. Or I could run, maybe tie him up… But then he’d still make noise. Nothing good will come of this, I can’t kill him now; he’ll just respawn and alert the others..._

She had few options, and none of them were perfect. And then it hit her.

And never before had she executed a throw so perfectly. She gripped onto his arm that was hanging over her shoulder, and swung her other arm backwards driving the screwdriver deep into Scout’s thigh. As he howled in pain, she threw him over her shoulder as she dropped to her knees. Scout came slamming into the concrete floor, his body gasping desperately to force the air back into his lungs. Scout groaned. His eyes were unfocused and staring off into the distance, his head lolling aimlessly. The Rigger lifted him slightly by his arm and with one final blow, brought her fist crashing down into his temple, trapping Scout in the chasm of his own unconsciousness.

Standing up, she tucked the escaped locks of hair behind her ears and tied scout’s limp body to the chair. _Thank goodness this happened in a storage room,_ she mused to herself, pulling more rope from a box on the shelf. Quickly wrapping up her work, she scooped up her pocket multi-tools and components into her satchel and pressed a button on her drone.

With a gentle whirring noise, the small drone was hovering in the air beside her, ‘do your thing, Spot’ she smiled, pleased with her handiwork and switching the drone to auto. She and the drone quietly slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her, whilst she smirked and placed the duct tape in her pocket. _That will keep him quiet for a bit._  

\------------------

The Rigger carefully made her way further into the base, more specifically, the server room. The drone prowled ahead, whilst she followed some 10 metres behind, watching through the drone’s camera on her console. At least this gave her a few seconds warning of approaching danger, which she effectively utilised to slip past Sniper undetected, while he sharpened his Kukri in the common room.

Breaking into the server room and hacking the mainframe may seem like a daunting task, but for the Rigger, this was straightforward protocol. Getting into the room was not a problem; the electronic keypad was a typical run-of-the-mill lock, which she bypassed in seconds. On the other hand, hacking into the mainframe required more of her concentration, trawling through countless lines of code, but nevertheless her trained eye found a way in. ‘Yes, we did it Spot!’ she whispered in excitement to her hovering friend.

Now that she had the exact location of the intelligence, along with a host of other intriguing BLU company files, it was now a case of getting there undetected. She set off with a brisk walk, once again following behind Spot. As she neared her destination, she glanced down at her console, and stopped. Two unfamiliar voices could be heard arguing from around the corner, outside the storage room. Perturbingly, she needed to get past here in order to retrieve the intelligence. But no matter. Her drone confirmed these voices belonged to Demoman and Soldier. She chuckled darkly to herself. ‘Jackpot.’

‘I cannae see why there’s a problem with that, ye bloody idiot.’

‘WE DO NOT NEED ANOTHER RECRUIT.’

‘Solider! Give the lass a fair chance, she might surprise us.’

‘BUT SHE PLAYS WITH TOYS! WEAPONS ARE NOT TOYS. APART FROM TOY-WEAPONS.’

‘Have ye even seen her in combat?’

‘I HAVE NOT. BUT I DID SEE YOU TAKE SNIPER OUT FOR BURGERS. I SEE YOU HAVE A NEW BEST FRIEND. ONE THAT ISN’T ME… FOR SHAME.’

‘Ach. It was ONE time!’ Demo huffed, rolling his eyes.

Mania shone in the Rigger’s eyes and a wild grin split her face. _Oh this is going to be even sweeter than I imagined_ , she mused. Within moments, she crouched down and pulled out another compact drone from her satchel, starting it up – the difference with this drone being that it was far more dangerous.

It was an ultra-light quadcopter drone, with a sleek carbon fibre skeleton. All black. The underside of the drone accommodated a short barrel, connected to internal firing mechanisms and a magazine protruded from the top of the drone. It was a work of art in the Rigger’s eyes; she built it entirely from scratch.

This time she controlled her drone directly, and as she flew it around the corner she started firing at Demo. Barely controlled giggles bubbled up in her throat as she watched the bloodshed with excitement on her screen. The bursts exploded from the drone, stitching bullets into the Scotsman, and he slumped down against the glass, leaving angry streaks of crimson red above him. The Soldier was quick to react to this, and just as the Rigger took aim at him, he fired his rocket launcher in the direction of the incoming bullets.  
  
The rocket smashed into the corner of the wall, launching concrete chunks and razor-sharp shrapnel towards the Rigger. She barely had enough time to bring her arm up to cover her face, and the blast threw her off her feet, the shrapnel lacing her arm and part of her face.

‘There is an enemy Spy in the base!’ The alarm echoed vociferously throughout the base.

She scrambled clumsily to her feet, still in shock, and reached for the console that was thrown from her hands. She looked at her bloodied arm in horror, the pain numbed by shock. Thankfully, the glitching image showed two slumped bodies on the floor. The Rigger frantically scooped up her drones, and bolted it down the corridor, as fast as her legs could carry her.

Red in the face, she reached the intelligence room. It was clear. She grabbed the intelligence, and darted back out the way she came. Another alarm blared out, ‘The enemy has taken the intelligence!’ Her legs kept sprinting, her mind blank of all thought, and as she glanced ahead she saw the heavy’s body face down, with a knife in his back. A hand gripped her arm, pulling her forward. ‘We need to run!’ shouted Spy, emerging from the shadows.  
  
Distant voices of the other mercenaries could be heard as they gave chase to the infiltrators. Rigger’s lungs burned with pain, she desperately wanted to look behind her. Agonising pain was searing through her arm now.

_Just keep going. Keep going._

Her breathing was so heavy she could hardly hear anything. Winding through the maze of a base, she started to gain hope that they would escape with their lives as they swiftly approached the exit. The hope lifted her spirits and fuelled the determination that forced her legs forward, even though it felt impossible to carry on.

And all of it came crashing down. She stopped dead in her tracks, almost tumbling over her feet, and stared at the SMG sternly pointed in her direction. Nothing could describe the horror she felt. It was this very moment, Spy’s enigmatic warning became all too clear. Those haunting words echoed in her mind.

‘They say you are your own worst enemy.’

And she stared right back into the same eyes that normally greeted her in the mirror.

 

 


	2. Sacrificing a Pawn to Save the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't think the Rigger would describe it as settling in, but she's trying her best. Being held at gunpoint by yourself is not something you see everyday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first of all, I am sorry it has taken me so long to update. Obviously life can get in the way of things, and I don't like writing when I cannot commit all my attention into it. Either way, I feel things have been settling down now and I am aiming to write a chapter at least once a month. Hopefully shorter than that. I will try my best! :) Either way, thank you for the kudos and the wonderful comments - I didn't know or expect that people would like this, but it's really nice to hear you are all enjoying the story. As always - any comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Cold. The Rigger felt cold and weak, her arm numb. A sickly, copper taste coated her tongue, and she could only hear the blood pounding through her ears. The colour had drained from her face, leaving her a pale grey. Had they time to fit a tourniquet to stem the bleeding from her arm, she may not have been as worse off.

Spy risked a glance towards her, his expression barely changing, save for a slight tightening of his lips. The Rigger was too distracted to notice, and instead trained her attention on the exit and pacifying the threat in front of her. The corridor was barren except for the sunlight gently filtering through the doors at the end.

Almost as if it was taunting them.

They were so close.

Both the Rigger and the Spy panted for breath and stared uncertainly into the barrel of the SMG that was levelled in their direction. It displayed a fresh gun-blue matte finish, and it was still possible to discern the faint smell of oil from the gun. The Spy reluctantly held up his hands in surrender, and the Rigger winced as she held her injured arm up, with the briefcase by her side in the other.

A condescending sneer settled on the BLU Rigger’s face. ‘Drop the intelligence.'

The Rigger retook her stance, defensively holding the briefcase behind her. She couldn’t hear over the blood pounding in her ears…

She was looking at _herself_? No, even more than that, she was being held at gunpoint by _herself_. The enemy wore the same black combat clothing and seemed to have an identical loadout to her. The mental struggle she was enduring fought harder against her.

Instinctively, she tightened her grip around the briefcase handle. All her thoughts consolidated. This wasn’t _herself_. This was an enemy and should be treated as such. The hints of apprehension on her face swiftly dissipated, as she remained silent, now glaring at the enemy Rigger.

Her mind frantically analysed the situation, beginning to accept there might not be a way out from this one. There was no cover; they were trapped in a bare corridor and if she attempted to shoot, she would be dead by the time it would take her to draw her gun. Her eyes darted to Spy, his posture was surprisingly controlled and collected for someone whose life hung in the balance. 

The Rigger begrudgingly complied with the enemy’s demand and turned slightly side on, lowering the briefcase to the ground with one hand, while her other reached towards her belt. The Spy watched her intently, anticipating her next move.

As she released her grasp of the briefcase, and with as little indication as possible, she catapulted her remote at the BLU Rigger. As it collided sharply with the enemy’s eye, the RED Rigger was already launching herself towards her target.

The enemy Rigger had raised her arms and her gun instinctively to protect her face, exposing her midriff. Perfect. The Rigger slammed into the enemy at full force with her shoulder, crashing her into the floor a metre behind, her SMG clattering away just out of reach.

The RED Rigger’s mind was devoid of all thought. She had one objective, and she would die trying to complete it. _No half-measures._

‘I’ll put a bullet through your fucking skull!’ the enemy Rigger hissed through gritted teeth, her eyes wild with rage as they fought to pin each other down.

The RED Rigger utilised the best tools she had for groundfighting; her elbows and knees. She fought more defensively than the BLU, a strategic move considering the poor state she was in, waiting for the right opportunity to attack. But before she could, she was abruptly caught off guard by a sharp strike to the face, a thin haze now washing over her.

The RED Rigger already knew the likely outcome of this fight, she was injured badly and her muscles were becoming heavier by the second. What she didn’t expect was that the enemy was just as proficient at close quarters combat as she was.  

They grappled each other and struggled in a blur of striking fists and tactical grabs; the fight felt like it dragged on for minutes, but in reality, it lasted only seconds.

The BLU Rigger targeted her opponent’s injuries with remarkable efficiency, striking her bloodied forearm to gain an advantage and then breaking the elbow over her knee. Shrieks of agony tore through the corridors, and tears streamed down the RED Rigger’s face. Dazed from the pain and adrenaline, the Rigger was blissfully unaware of her surroundings, and felt nothing of the cluster of bullets that punched through her abdomen.

The enemy Rigger arduously rose to her feet, inhaling deeply. Despite that the RED Rigger was injured, she put up one hell of a fight. It was a worrying realisation, not that she would _ever_ admit it.

The Spy was nowhere to be seen, and the intelligence remained where it was left. She cautiously brushed herself off and examined the corridor one last time.

‘Coward. Must have retreated.’ She then glared at the blood splatter on her new polished gun and sighed bitterly.

She flicked her gaze back over to the suitcase, only to find it was now gone. Her heart dropped, whirling around only to be seized by the most, intense, searing pain erupting in her chest.

The BLU Rigger gasped for air, only getting a ghastly rattle from her lungs.

‘You lack savoir-faire madam,’ the Spy chided into her ear from over her shoulder, his body close to hers.

Her body tried to lurch forward, but his hands – one on her right shoulder, and the other gripping the butterfly knife that was thrust between her ribs, kept her from doing so. He allowed her to struggle for a short while before his voice grew darker:

‘Remember this pain,’ and he twisted the knife, forcing out a breathless wail from her body. ‘When you least expect me, I will be there. And the pain will be far worse next time.’ He jerked the knife into the wound, her breath becoming increasingly ragged.

The Spy could feel her body losing strength, and with that he effortlessly drew the knife out, allowing her body to lifelessly slump to the floor.

‘Amateur,’ he taunted, as he wiped the blade down with a fine black cloth, before smoothly folding and returning it to his breast pocket.

Whilst the Spy adjusted his tie, commotion at the other end of the corridor caught his attention. He turned to face his teammate. She groaned as she helplessly cradled her viscera, and although she tried to speak, all she could do was splutter blood.

Without hesitation, the Spy drew his revolver.

‘You may thank me later.’

And before the Rigger could process anything, everything went black.

\------------

The RED Rigger awoke to the sound of distant chatter, and her fatigue blurred any meaning from what was said. A dull pain throbbed in her forehead and her muscles felt weak, almost as if her limbs were being held down by weights. As she finally managed to open her eyes, her memories came filtering back and suddenly she gasped, reaching for her stomach and a wound that wasn’t there.

It was quite amazing how one moment she was holding her bloody entrails, and here she was – not a single scratch on her. That pain, that feeling of helplessness, however, would remain etched into her mind forever.

_I guess that’s the beauty and curse of respawn. You can cheat death, but you can’t cheat the pain._

Her senses slowly returned to her, the white artificial light making her squint. The Rigger lay on a clean white gurney, with a blood stained bed to her side and any privacy curtains were non-existent. Steel counters formed the perimeter of the room, and it took her a moment, but she could make out countless rows of jars filled with strange curiosities and organs of dubious origin. On the wall above were glass cabinets filled with clean, fresh bandages and syringes, and the room was tiled in white.

The entire room had a slight pitch, leading down to a drain in the corner, and on the opposite side of the room was a large mahogany desk strewn with various medical apparatus. A lab coat hung over the doctor’s chair by the wall, behind the cluttered desk. The strong clinical smell brought back some rather unsettling memories.

The Rigger had only met with the Medic once before, just before her first mission. For an operation of sorts. It made her shudder just thinking about it, but she didn’t really have a choice. She knew little about the Medic, and the other mercenaries too, for that matter. Although, she couldn’t deny that the rumours she heard from Medic’s fellow mercenaries didn’t reassure her in the slightest.

As a matter of professional bookkeeping, the Rigger preferred to thoroughly research her colleagues so as to avoid any surprises. What little she could find of the Medic told her that avoiding surprises wasn’t an option this time.

The Rigger tried to speak, but her voice broke into a dry cough. ‘M..Medic?’

Upon hearing no answer, and impatient for a response, the Rigger fumbled and sat up before trying to get off the bed. To her frustration, her legs had other ideas and buckled from underneath. She fell to her knees, and then to her side with a thud and groaned.

Within seconds the infirmary doors burst open, ‘Ah! You’re awa…’ The Medic’s voice trailed off once he saw the empty bed. Crouching down, he met the frustrated eyes of the Rigger. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

‘What is wrong my dear?’ he asked, adjusting his glasses.

The Rigger sighed. ‘My legs won’t work…’

The Medic chuckled as he rose to his feet. ‘Yes, I imagine your cognitive faculties are taking a while to adjust to your new body.’ He walked over to the Rigger and held his hand out. ‘I can assure you this will improve in time.’

She forced a smile and took his hand. ‘Thank you.’

The Medic carefully helped her up.

‘Oh!’ The Rigger started, as she began hastily searching through her pockets, ‘Where is Spot?’

‘I assume you mean this little fellow?’ Medic gestured to the small drone on his desk and chuckled.

‘It gave Demo quite the scare. You respawned but lost consciousness, so Demo tried to carry you to the infirmary.’ The Medic pulled out a miniscule red pellet from his pocket. ‘It chased him faster than he could run and shot him relentlessly with these things.’ The Medic began laughing harder, ‘Only the Scottish could imagine such profanities!’

The Medic’s face unexpectedly grew serious, as he more closely examined the pellet. He peered over his glasses at the Rigger. ‘You know the use of tear gas is prohibited by the Geneva convention…’ He looked back down to the pellet and paused.

‘And besides,’ he added, a sadistic smile growing on his face, ‘I have something much more potent you may use.’

The Rigger laughed, mentally noting to pick the Medic’s brains later - and of course pull up the CCTV feed of the Demoman’s escapades.  
  
As the Rigger approached the desk and sat down, Spot emitted a welcoming trill.

‘The drone would not leave your side,’ Medic explained as he sat down. ‘Very impressive programming indeed! I would love to discuss how you achieved its level of intelligence, but that is for another time.’

The Rigger smiled proudly as she and the Medic admired her handiwork.

‘Anyways,’ the Medic continued, ‘you are free to rest here, or in your room – which I highly recommend you do. Make sure you are free this evening, I believe the group is intending to celebrate your arrival and the success of your mission.’

‘Thanks, I’ll rest up here. By the way, what about Spy? Is he okay?’

‘Yes, he’s fine. Now, you get some rest.’ Medic stood up. ‘I will be back in a couple of hours.’

Once the Medic had left, the Rigger found her satchel and pulled out her multi-tool and picked up Spot. She hummed to herself and got to work, not allowing herself any time to dwell.


End file.
